I Can Help You There
by ChaserOfTheQuaffle
Summary: What if, that day on the train, Harry Potter had accepted Draco Malfoy's hand and help? What if Draco had been included in the Golden Trio, now Quartet? Fluffy goodness-you have been warned.


I Can Help You There

**I wish I owned Harry Potter, and I own that wish, but I do not own Harry Potter or anything else that was written and created by that wonderful lady, J.K. Rowling. :(**

"He turned back to Harry. 'You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.'

He held out his hand to shake Harry's..."

* * *

Harry smiled pleasantly. "Thanks," he said agreeably. "But I think Ron's pretty cool. Why don't you come in and sit down?" He took Draco's hand, giving it a firm shake.

"You've got to be joking," Draco muttered to Crabbe and Goyle. When Draco made a move to sit down, Goyle grabbed his arm. "You gonna sit with blood-traitors, we sit somewhere else."

"Fine," Draco responded after a moment. He waved his hand for them to leave.

"So how'd you pick up the bodyguards, Draco?" Harry wanted to know. He offered Draco a chocolate frog. Draco took it.

"Thanks," he muttered. "Can't we sit somewhere else, Harry? Away from this...blood-traitor?"

Ron looked highly insulted. "You're more of a blood-traitor than I am! At least I have manners!"

Draco surveyed him—dirt on his nose, chocolate staining his worn clothing. "Quite," he agreed sarcastically.

"So, you never answered my question, Draco," Harry commented, trying to draw the attention away from Ron's indigence.

"My father introduced us. He and their fathers go way back," Draco responded.

"I'll bet they do," Ron muttered. "Way back kissing You-Know-Who's butt."

Draco rose, infuriated.

Harry stepped between the two fuming boys. "Easy," he said calmingly.

"He just called my father a Death Eater!"

"What's a Death Eater?" Harry asked calmly.

Before Draco could answer, Ron stepped in. "You-Know-Who's butt kissers. They worship him."

Harry raised his eyebrows and looked to Draco for clarification.

"Gingerhead is somewhat right, as much as it pains me," he said. "They follow You-Know-Who and do his bidding."

"Was that so hard to say?" Harry asked Ron. He turned to Draco. "And his name is Ron, not Gingerhead."

"Whatever."

Silence.

A familiar bushy brown head entered again.

"You'd best hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the con—"

"_What _is _that?_" Draco interrupted. Hermione looked highly affronted.

"Draco, this is Hermione. Hermione...Granger, right?" Harry checked. She nodded. "She was in here earlier—did you ever find that toad?" Hermione shook her head.

"I don't _care _why she's in here, just get her _out!_ That's a mudblood! I know one when I see one, trust me!" Draco cried, pulling back as though repulsed.

"Again, I am lost," Harry said.

Hermione's eyes were swimming. "A _mudblood_ is a common slang term for a muggleborn witch or wizard. It's considered incredibly cruel and rude. And _that," _She indicated Draco "is—"

"Why must everyone refer to everyone else as a thing? His name is Draco." Harry supplied,

"Fine, _Draco, _then, is a member of the Malfoys, an old and aristocratic family that fancy themselves leaders and can usually get away with it because they are so rich, have much influence, and are extraordinarily good liars."

"What did she do, swallow a text?" Draco grumbled, noticeably not denying the claims.

"Yes," Ron told him. "Can we help you with something?" he asked Hermione. "As fascinating as your lectures are, I'm certain that we will get enough of them during the next nine months to not need more now."

Hermione smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"There are two big thugs out in the hall trying to get everyone to give them money. Quite annoying, really," she answered him. She looked at Draco. "They said you would hurt me if I cursed them. May I assume this isn't true?"

Draco was against the wall still. "I wouldn't get that close to you."

Harry smiled wickedly, then wrenched Draco from the wall and hurled him toward Hermione. They crashed together to the floor. "There," he said. "Now you're already contaminated."

Ron offered Hermione his hand. Dazedly, she took it and he helped her up. Harry offered Draco his hand. Draco was trying to brush off his clothes.

"There's nothing there to wipe off," Harry reminded Draco. "Hermione's just a normal person, though it sounds like she's smarter than you."

Hermione smirked.

Draco stood, pointedly not taking Harry's hand. He settled back on the seat, still far from Hermione but not as repulsed.

Harry sat down.

"So, Harry," Ron began from his place beside Hermione. "What Quidditch team do you support?"

Promptly Hermione pulled out a book and began to read. "Quidditch doesn't interest me."

"Merlin, woman," Draco said. "How much do you read anyway?"

"Enough."

Harry interrupted her. "What's Quidditch?" he asked loudly.

Two indignant yells came from the two other boys.

"What _have _you heard of, Harry?" Ron screeched.

"Not much. I'll probably look like a fool at school."

"Don't worry," Draco told him. "Lots of people do well who never heard of Hogwarts before—look at Hermione if you don't believe me!"

Harry smiled. This taken care of, Ron and Draco began to describe Quidditch to the letter.

* * *

"Granger, Hermione!" called Professor McGonagall.

Petrified, Hermione stumbled up the steps as best she could. A few moments later, the Hat opened its brim.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry, Ron, and Draco clapped for her.

A few names later...

"Malfoy, Draco!"

Draco stepped regally onto the dais. Someone at the Slytherin table let out a whoop.

As soon as the hat was on his head, Draco felt it open its brim and knew that it was going to put him in Slytherin. In a moment of panic, he mind-called—

_Wait!_

_What is it? _the hat grumbled. _I have children to sort and you are a Malfoy._

_I don't want to be defined by that!_

_You remind me of someone...Are you sure?_

_Yes, I'm sure... _As he felt the brim of that hat open again, he asked, _Who?_

_Sirius Black._

_Sirius Black? But that means—_

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Silence.

No one clapped, no one cheered. Draco stood shakily and walked toward the appropriate table. Suddenly, he saw Harry jump up, whoop, and start clapping. Ron joined, then Hermione, then the Gryffindors, if half-heartedly, then the Hufflepuffs, then the Ravenclaws. The Slytherins were quiet.

The Sorting went on agonizingly until—

"Potter, Harry!"

And again the room went silent.

Harry sat on the stool and waited for the blackness of the hat to cover his eyes. When it did, he asked,

_I know you have to decide what's best for me, but..._

_Spit it out, boy, I've got more children to sort._

_Sorry, I just...I really want to be with my friends. I really like them..._

_Who?_

_Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and..._

_Well?_

_Draco Malfoy?_

_Hmmmm...you know that in Slythierin you could be great?_

_I know, I just don't...well...care._

_That's very brave, and very loyal. Too bad we don't have a Gryfflepuff house, now isn't it?_

Harry chuckled softly. _Yes, sir._

_Well, Weasley will undoubtedly be another Gryffindor, Malfoy and Granger are already there...seems like only one option, now isn't there?_

_Sir?_

"GRYFFINDOR!"

As Harry left the dais to an uproar of applause, he thought he felt a distinct feeling of pride from the hat.

Ron's sorting took almost no time at all. He arrived at the table, looking dazed.

"What's up, Ron?" Harry asked.

"The hat was all—'You belong with them,' and then it said 'Gryffindor,' and here I am,"

Hermione laughed. "So? You do belong with us. We all belong here." She put a hand on Draco's still shaking arm.

The four smiled at each other. A new era had begun.

* * *

Way up high, in the sky, the golden authoress paged frantically through the manuscript labeled Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. "This can't be right," she muttered to herself, glancing back down at the happy, laughing foursome.

"What happened to 'riffraff like the Weasleys' and 'SLYTHERIN!' and 'Not Slytherin, not Slytherin,' and 'No wonder she hasn't got any friends?' Now I have to rewrite!"

Still muttering about the inconvience of it all, J.K. Rowling walked out of the clouds, back down to her desk, and to the place where she really lived.

* * *

Spring break fever has hit! I was so excited at the prospect of a week without school that I thought of this one-shot and wrote it in an hour and a half! Whew! (Sleeplessness helps too.)

I don't know where I would take this story if I continued...I'm afraid it would be too much like canon...Nevertheless, you should let me know if you want it kept up! No promises, but knowing if anyone's interested would help me a lot! Thanks!

As usual, if you loved it, hated it, or found it mediocre, there's only one way to tell me! REVIEW!

Please?

Much love,

~Boston


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